


Surprise is the Greatest Gift

by littlemiss_m



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: (not exactly graphic but pretty prominent still given the theme), Adoption, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Breastfeeding, Childbirth, Choose Your Own Ending, Eating Disorders, Gen, Hospitals, Mpreg, Omega Prompto Argentum, POV person who hates their body, Prompto Argentum Needs a Hug, Prompto's body issues, Single Parents, Surprise pregnancy, Unplanned Pregnancy, gynecological examinations, referenced prompto/other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-27
Updated: 2018-08-04
Packaged: 2019-05-29 12:31:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15073202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlemiss_m/pseuds/littlemiss_m
Summary: At first, Prompto thinks it sore muscles from Crownsguard training, then heat cramps coming in stronger than he's ever felt. Next thing he knows he's soaking in Noctis' bathtub, screaming for help as his body works as nature intended.By the time Noctis bursts through the bathroom door, there's a wailing baby in Prompto's shaking arms.





	1. Day 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi!! Yet another fic I've been wanting to write for forever because my love for baby fics is only comparable for my love for good angst and h/c, and this one has both in spades! :D I haven't yet finished writing this but I'm expecting it to run for 5-6 chapters or so, and I have enough written that I should be able to keep up with weekly updates.
> 
> Anyways this fic will have two endings; in the first one, Prompto gives the baby up for adoption, and in the second one, he keeps her. I couldn't decide between the two options so I'm writing both, and though I hesitate to call either a "good" or a "bad" ending, the first will be considerably sadder than the second, though they do both focus on Prompto choosing the better of two bad/difficult options.
> 
> That said, please enjoy reading <3

It had started somewhere during Crownsguard training, though Prompto hadn't realized how sore he was until he stood in one of the private shower stalls, trying to find a position that didn't make him want to curl up in a ball. They'd spent most of the training session hauling each other across an obstacle course under the blazing July sun, and though Prompto had at the time felt like he was doing well enough, the pain in his back made him reconsider his previous assessment. His lower back pulsed and twinged with every step he took, every move he made, and when he finally made his way over to Noctis' apartment and threw himself face-down on a sofa, the distinct lack of comfort made him want to cry.

”Kill me now,” he grumbled instead, face buried in a fluffy pillow. ”I don't what the fuck I did but I need to die right now.”

Noctis, who'd been sitting curled up in one of the armchairs, laughed over his complaints. ”Dude, we told you it wouldn't be that easy,” he said, then quieted when Prompto continued to groan. ”Are you okay? Did you get hurt?”

Prompto huffed into the pillow and tried to shake his head. ”Dunno, my back's killing me,” he answered. He tried pulling his legs closer to his chest but it didn't help him any, only brought more tension into his already sore muscles. ”I didn't notice anything going wrong but, like, it hurts really bad right now.”

He heard Noctis step out of the chair and walk up to him, keening in sympathy. ”I could get you an ice pack if you want to,” he said. He knelt down and rested a hand on Prompto's lower back, right where the pain was the worst, and Prompto couldn't choose between pushing into the touch and leaning away from it, so he just twitched awkwardly. ”But, dude, you smell kind of funny to me? Like, I don't know, but, uh, do you think – are you in heat? 'Cause it smells a bit like the last time.”

A heat – that was an answer Prompto hadn't paused to consider. At 18, his heats were far from regular, coming in once or twice a year with no reliable way to predict them. He'd only had a handful of heats so far and they'd all been relatively easy, some cramping and nausea but nothing too severe. He could remember one morning when standing up straight had caused the pain to worsen noticeably, but that had also disappeared within minutes, and even the worst spike of pain was nothing compared to the ache in his back.

Prompto couldn't remember ever feeling like this, but at the same time, he knew there were people whose heats were bad enough to leave them bedbound for a few days at a time, and if Noctis thought he smelled like he was in a heat... then he probably was, he decided.

”It's never hurt this bad,” Prompto groaned, trying to rock up against Noctis' palm. He'd already sweated through his shirt. ”Fuck it all!”

Noctis pressed down on his lower back and for a brief, blessed moment, Prompto felt better. ”Do you want the ice?” Noctis asked. ”Or would it be better to take a bath?”

”Bath,” Prompto murmured. Shaking Noctis' hand off, he rolled over to stare at the ceiling. ”Sorry, dude. I know we had plans...”

”Yeah, games, dude,” Noctis said, rolling his eyes with a smirk. ”I already talked Specs into ordering pizza in honor of Friday, so I guess we can just Netflix and chill all evening long, eh?”

Prompto laughed even as his stomach spasmed, the pain radiating into more familiar if still too painful places. ”I'm not _that_ easy, babe,” he joked, smacking his lips in a duck-lipped kiss. ”You gotta buy me something better than some pizza if you want a piece of _this_.”

”Like a salad?” Noctis joked right back, standing up and extending a hand. Prompto accepted the offer of help and heaved himself standing, groaning as the movements tugged at sore muscles. ”A nice, yummy piece of lettuce and half a tomato.”

”Dude, I'd totally fuck you for a salad,” Prompto laughed, punching Noctis' arm as he passed him. ”A pizza and a salad. Nice.”

They both continued laughing even as Prompto patted over to Noctis' bathroom, pausing at the sink to swallow one of the painkillers stocked in a drawer. While he swallowed the pill, he watched his reflection in the large mirror, frowning; somehow, he looked both pale and flushed at the same time. His back really hurt – the pain had only increased since he left the Citadel – and Prompto was starting to feel a little worried. It probably wasn't normal to have symptoms like this out of nowhere.

Prompto plugged the tub and turned the water as hot as his skin could stand. While the tub filled, he undressed and folded his clothes on the counter, only leaving his wristbands on. He hadn't bothered with locking the door because he trusted that Noctis would honor his privacy, but as certain as he was, he still couldn't reveal his tattoo just like that.

The hot water felt like heaven on his skin and Prompto sighed as he settled down in the tub, letting himself slip down until only his head remained above the waterline. He couldn't see through the lavender-scented bubbles he'd added into the water, and the rising steam clouded his view, so he decided to just lie back and relax. It worked for a moment, the worst pains easing, but soon the discomfort crept back and Prompto found himself shifting around, trying to find a better position. Something spasmed inside him, almost like a pop, and he startled. When he pressed his hands against his stomach, he felt an unusual tenseness under the raised lines and bumps of his stretch marks.

Prompto's stomach sank. This really wasn't normal, and the more he thought about it, the more worried he grew. The muscles of his stomach flexed and relaxed alternatively, matching the spikes of pain in his back. Prompto couldn't think of a single reason for what he was experiencing, except–

–except. Prompto swallowed the sudden lump in his throat and looked down, swiping at the bubbles to create a window underwater. Feeling cold and dizzy, he counted back in time, one month and two and three and nine, all the way back to his eighteenth birthday and the nameless, faceless alpha he'd met at the bar.

”No, no, no,” Prompto pleaded, begging the Astrals for another answer. One hand pressed on his stomach, he reached down with the other, slowly sneaking between his legs to probe at his hole – now a gaping maw with something round and slick pushing out.

He didn't pause to think before screaming for Noctis.

* * *

When Noctis heard the scream, he was texting Ignis about Prompto's sudden pains. It really had worried him to see his best friend like that, clearly suffering from an unusual pain, but the heat-like scent clinging to Prompto's skin had cut his worry at least a little. Still, when he heard Prompto yelling his name and asking for help, he was out of his seat before he could feel the sudden weight sinking in his stomach. Phone clutched in one hand, he burst through the unlocked bathroom door.

At first, he didn't see anything wrong. Prompto was in the tub, almost completely underwater, but he was conscious and it didn't look like he'd slipped either. Then he raised his hands out of the water and the sea of bubbles and Noctis felt his brain shortcircuit.

”Ho-oly,” he gasped, equally stunned and horrified at the sight of a bloody, slimy, wailing baby resting in Prompto's shaking hands. Soon the reality set in and he surged forward, falling into his knees before the tub while dialing the Citadel emergency line. ”Hi, I need an ambulance at my apartment ASAP. My friend just gave birth to a baby and he's not looking too good.”

A deep-ingrained calmness replaced Noctis' earlier panic as he surveyed the scene before him. Prompto was silent, staring down at the baby in shock, and Noctis barely had the time to put his phone on the speaker and set it aside before he realized Prompto's arms were beginning fall under the weight of the baby. It was a girl, Noctis noticed, also noting how numbly the realization hit him.

”How do I hold the baby?” he asked, already sneaking an arm underneath Prompto's. ”Support the neck, right?”

The woman on the other end of the line was quick to answer. Biting down on his lip, Noctis very carefully folded Prompto's arms up, securely trapping the baby against his chest; with his other hand, he felt around the bottom of the tub until he found the plug. He tugged at it and soon the water began to recede, leaving behind fading bubbles and thin but growing streaks of red blood where Prompto sat.

”The baby sounds healthy,” the woman remarked through the phone; Noctis could hear the click-clack of akeyboard accompanying her voice. ”Is the cord wrapped around its neck?”

Noctis followed the cord with his eyes with a vague sense of disgust. It was pale and almost milky, streaked with slimy blood, but one end disappeared between Prompto's legs and the other attached to the baby's belly, and nothing looked out of place in his eyes. ”No, everything looks good,” he said, then backtracked a little: ”but my friend looks a little, uh, shocked? He's bleeding, not massive amounts, but bleeding still.”

”The ambulance will be there in five minutes,” the woman said curtly. ”They can treat him if he's losing too much blood, but until they arrive, it's important you keep both your friend and the baby warm.”

”Um, okay,” Noctis replied, glancing around. Unwilling to let go of Prompto's hands, he reached for the nearest towels and pulled them down on the floor. It was easy to arrange the first one over Prompto's lower body, but wrapping the second one around his arms and the still-screaming baby proved a little more difficult. Eventually he succeeded, though he needed both his arms to hold the towel in place.

His hands began to strain quickly, but it was an ache he was determined to bear. Prompto hadn't spoken one word since lifting the baby out of the tub and, in a way, Noctis thought he could understand; the child had clearly been a surprise, not just to himself but Prompto as well, and that had to be a massive shock.

”Prom...?” he tried, shifting to lean against the tub. ”Are you okay?”

Prompto looked at him, then, eyes strikingly blue agains the redness lining them. For a moment he just stared at Noctis, face pale and lips wobbling, but then he began crying in the most heart-breaking way Noctis had ever witnessed. As his sobs echoed in the room, he curled into himself, trembling hands clutching at the baby in his arms.

Noctis knew that in this moment, there was nothing he could do to help, so he resigned himself for waiting.

* * *

The ambulance crew arrived with Gladio and Ignis in tow. When the four people crowded the bathroom door, Noctis glanced at them over his shoulder, meeting Ignis and Gladio's eyes and seeing the same befuddled shock he himself felt. Prompto was still crying, though his sobs had quieted to little sniffles. The baby hadn't had one silent moment in the short first minutes of her life.

”Alright, let's have a look,” one of the medics said, stepping in. He leaned over Noctis and placed his hands over the white towel, waiting until Noctis had slipped away before kneeling down. Noctis stepped back, back, back, until Ignis rested a hand on his shoulder.

”Let's give them space to work in,” Ignis murmured. Noctis nodded, the earlier calmness suddenly gone, and hesitantly followed Ignis out of the bathroom.

He felt weak, all of sudden, tired and shaky, and didn't even attempt to protest when Ignis sat him down on his bed. His shirt was soaked with water, his hands stained with slime and blood, and either sweat or humidity had glued his hair to his face. Noctis looked up to see Gladio still sanding at the bathroom door, shaking his head in – what? Shock, confusion, disapproval? He couldn't say, not until Gladio turned away and walked to where he and Ignis were standing.

”I thought those guys were joking when they told us,” he murmured, quieter than Noctis had ever heard him. ”How does... Ifrit _fuck_ me, he just had a baby!”

Gladio combed a hand through his hair. Noctis itched to do the same but was barred by Ignis, who was silently cleaning the grime from his hands with a sharp-smelling wet wipe. ”He was complaining about back cramps,” Noctis said numbly. ”He thought he'd hurt himself at training but he smelled like he was in heat, so he had a bath but then he screamed for help and when I get in, he's holding a baby in his hands.”

The words tumbled out of his mouth faster than he could stop them. Looking at his bedside alarm clock, it had only been – ten, fifteen minutes, really, since he first heard Prompto calling for him, but somehow it felt like an eternity. Noctis thought back to the marathon he and Prompto had ran the previous summer, how shaky he'd been at the finish line; this wasn't much different, except for the very obvious lack of satisfaction.

Soon the second medic returned to the bedroom, approaching them with a brief nod and a smile. ”Everything looks good enough,” he said, ”we're waiting for the afterbirth and then we'll take them to the Citadel for a proper check-up.”

Ignis straightened up and fixed his glasses. ”How long will that be?”

”Some ten, fifteen minutes, at most,” the medic answered. ”That said, do you mind if we give him one of the bathrobes to wear? We spotted his clothes on the counter, but...”

He trailed off. Noctis twined his fingers into the back of Ignis' shirt and nodded quickly. ”Yeah, yeah, that's okay,” he said, still feeling out of breath. ”Are they okay then?”

The medic looked down at him, a soft smile on his face. Noctis wanted to feel relief – knew he shouldn't be worrying – but such emotions were too far out of his reach. ”Yes, Your Highness, they're both okay enough, considering the situation,” he said, then looked back up at Ignis and Gladio. ”Does he have any other items here, like shoes or a bag or something? We should probably take them all with us when we go.”

Noctis tried to remember if Prompto had brought a bag with him but couldn't think back so far. He remembered waiting for Prompto to show up, then laughing at him when he playfully begged for death, and the memory was enough to bring a frown to his lips; those first laughs over Prompto's pain had been way out of place, especially as he now knew they'd been contractions. _Labor pains_. He still couldn't believe it.

”Gladio, could you gather Prompto's belongings?” Ignis asked. Gladio nodded and walked away, clapping Noctis' shoulder as he went. Then the medic was called back into the bathroom and Noctis found himself alone with Ignis, who sat down on the bed next to him. ”Noctis, Noctis,” he spoke in a despairing tone, and Noctis cut in right away.

”No,” he gasped, shaking his head. ”No, Specs, no–”

”I need to ask,” Ignis insisted, ”you know–”

”It's not like that!” Noctis cried out, then bit on his lip when he realized how loud he'd been. ”It's never been like that, Specs,” he hissed furiously. ”He's my – he's my brother, Ignis, oh _gods_ he's my brother and he just had a fucking _baby_ –”

Noctis gasped the last words, shaking his head when Ignis laid his gloved hands on his shoulders. Prompto had stopped crying but he could still hear the baby wail on an occasion. Fifteen minutes later, Ignis herded him and Gladio into the kitchen to give Prompto some modicum of privacy while the medics walked him over to the stretcher, which they lowered so he could get on it. Noctis knew he shouldn't be watching but he couldn't look away either, not when Prompto looked so openly hurt, so fallen, so dejected, like a man being walked to his executioner. He moved gingerly, in pain for a wholly different reason than when he entered the apartment, and when the second medic placed the baby in his arms, he just stared at her with the same defeated expression.

”That's so fucked up,” Noctis murmured. His heart hurt, and the smell of greasy pizza wafting from the dining table left him queasy.

The medics began to wheel Prompto out of the apartment. Ignis sighed, stepping into the doorway to watch them go. ”It will likely be a while before we'll be allowed to see him, so it's best we eat before leaving,” he said, turning back to the kitchen.

They ate the pizza.


	2. Day 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The rush to the hospital is over, but for Prompto, that's just the beginning.

Prompto had never felt this lost before. Not when his parents began to spend longer times abroad, not when they stopped returning completely, not even on his disastrous eighteenth birthday when they called to say his goodbye for good. At Noctis' apartment and in the ambulance, he'd barely been able to speak when asked questions, bursting out in tears instead of words more often than not. Here at the Citadel, he was the same: crying over every last thing, no matter how small or large.

The nurses wanted him out of the bathrobe, so they offered him a hospital gown or a thin blanket, the latter of which would be more _functional_ because it would give the baby access to his breasts and the milk swelling within. Prompto cried and they gave him the gown. They set him down on a bed and offered him the baby, then took her away when he didn't react. He was still too shocked, too confused; he couldn't think, couldn't function, couldn't focus on anything but the electricity-like numbness buzzing in his brain. There was a doctor at the foot of his bed and two nurses in the corner, the first holding the baby – _his_ baby, his child, his _daughter_ – and the second collecting all sorts of equipment.

”They're going to make sure your baby is okay,” the doctor explained when she saw him watching the nurses. Prompto nodded, speechless, but didn't look away or at her. ”Okay, Prompto. Could you face me, please?”

Prompto did, and started crying immediately. He could guess what was coming next and he wasn't okay with it, like he wasn't okay with anything his body had been doing since he arrived at Noctis' apartment. The second nurse, the one that had been collecting the equipment, heard him crying and came over, gently taking hold of his arm.

”It's okay, honey,” the doctor tried to placate him. ”I know you're scared. I can see that you don't want to do this. But we really, _really_ need to make sure you weren't hurt too badly.”

Unable to anything but sniffle, Prompto nodded. He understood, logically, even if he wanted nothing more but to walk out of the door and just stop being for a while.

”Okay, that's good,” the doctor continued. The nurse petted his hair. ”Have you ever been to a gynecologist before? An omegologist? No? Okay, that's fine. I'm going to need you to put your feet up, but let's just get the bed ready first...”

The foot of the bed separated into two sections and soon the doctor was helping him lift his legs up on the stands. It left him open and vulnerable in a way he'd never experienced before and Prompto responded with yet another bout of tears, one that lasted all the way through the examination and the couple stitches he needed. Afterwards, when she was done, the doctor put the bed back together and covered his legs with a blanket, smiling at him over how strong and brave he'd been.

”Your file says you've got anemia, so we're going to give you extra iron supplements for a while,” she said, sitting down on the bed by his knees. She looked at the nurse, tilting her head slightly, and the nurse left. Prompto swallowed and wiped at his eyes. ”Other than that, there's nothing wrong with you. I understand you weren't exactly prepared for this, so I'm going to give you some pamphlets to read. We can talk more when you're read them and rested a little. How does that sound?”

”S'okay,” Prompto mumbled. He glanced at the first nurse, who had finished caring for the baby but stood in the corner still, holding the swaddled baby against her chest while she wrote something on a piece of paper.

The doctor saw him looking and smiled. She called the nurse over and took the baby, holding her with an ease that had Prompto wanting to cry again. ”She's healthy as can be,” the nurse said, grinning at Prompto. ”A bit on the smaller side but that's nothing to worry about.”

Prompto didn't know what to say so he smiled, twisting his fingers into the blanket. The doctor dismissed the nurse, watched her leave before turning back to Prompto. ”Okay, Prompto,” she said, and he prepared himself for whatever was to come. ”I really don't want to overwhelm you any further, but right now there's a decision you need to make.”

She wanted an answer so Prompto nodded, licking his lips. ”Okay,” he breathed. The baby had her eyes open. They were blue, like his. He hoped she wouldn't be blonde as well.

”Okay,” the doctor agreed. ”The thing is, she needs to eat. There's no real hurry yet, but the sooner she nurses, the better. Now, you obviously have two choices: you can breastfeed or we can get you a bottle.”

He should've seen this coming, but with everything else happening, he hadn't. When he wasn't thinking about the pain and the blood and the doctor between his legs, he'd been thinking about money. ”Okay,” Prompto murmured. He bit down on his lip to keep from crying. ”Okay.”

He hadn't given her an answer. He didn't have one to give. ”Would you like to try breastfeeding?” the doctor asked carefully. Prompto shrugged, feeling little else but a horrified, numb sort of disgust. There was milk in his body, in his breast, milk that was supposed to feed his baby. His stomach churned and he had to fight the urge to gag.

The doctor seemed to take his answer as a yes since she stood up and walked closer. ”Why won't you loosen your gown a little at first?” she asked kindly, waiting until he complied before continuing. He had to slip the gown down his shoulders to clear enough space on his chest, but then his arms got tangled in the armholes and with a strangled cry, he pushed the entire thing off his arms, leaving the soft facric bundled over his lap. When he looked up at the nurse, embarrassed and humiliated, he had tears in his eyes already. She continued to smile.

”Okay, I'm gonna set her down,” she said, then did exactly that. Prompto didn't know the first thing about holding a baby, only something vague about supporting the head, and in the end she had to arrange his arms into the proper position. Prompto looked down at the baby, her clean skin and pink cheeks, the spit-wet lips suckling on the air by his left nipple. He tried to shift his arms, just a little, a very careful movement that brought her head closer to her goal, but she still didn't latch on.

Nerves falling apart, Prompto looked up at the doctor. She sucked in her lips, then smiled again. ”Would it be okay for me to touch you?”

'No,' Prompto wanted to say, but he didn't. With his permission, she reached for his nipple, actually grasping it and tugging at the subtle swell of soft tissue; with her other hand, she brought the baby's head closer, and this time it worked.

It wasn't a bad feeling, Prompto noticed quickly. The relief that flooded him was incredible; it left him less tense, less stressed, less everything negative. It wasn't a miracle fix but it was something, him not failing at something that was supposed to be incredibly easy and natural. He'd already managed to get pregnant after a drunk one-night stand, and like that wasn't bad enough, he hadn't realized he was pregnant until he had the baby halfway out of him. He didn't want to fail any further.

The baby suckled at his breast. The doctor stood by his side, probably still smiling, but Prompto didn't dare look at her. His chest heaved and he sobbed, curling around the baby as his shoulders shook with muffled cries.

* * *

Even after staying back for dinner, it took a while before anyone came to tell them anything. Noctis sat in a private waiting room in the medical wing, Ignis and Gladio in the room with him, occasionally pacing the floor when his nerves made waiting too hard. When a doctor finally entered the room, pausing to greet him, Noctis shot out of his chair in a flash.

”How is he?” he hurried, almost bowling over the doctor in his haste to get answers. ”And the baby? Are they okay?”

The doctor held up her hands. ”They're both fine,” she said. ”Your friend is a little anemic so he might be a bit more tired during the next few days, but other than that, he's alright.”

Noctis was sure that 'alright' probably wasn't the best word to describe Prompto at the moment. A question hang in the air, one they all had to have spinning in their heads, but one that Noctis had no words for. The reality of what was happening was finally sinking in but now that the rush of getting Prompto and the baby into a hospital was over, more problems began to fill up the space in its stead.

”So,” the doctor began, clearing her throat. ”As I've understood the situation, that baby was bit of a surprise to everyone.”

”You can say that again,” Gladio exhaled, shaking his head. Ignis frowned but didn't say anything.

”Well, as I said, he's doing fine physically,” the doctor said, shrugging a little. ”He's in shock, which is fairly natural given the situation he's in. I don't really feel confident saying anything else about his condition until he has calmed down a little, but for now, there's no instant threat of anything.”

Noctis saw Ignis nod. ”You'll be keeping him here, then?” he asked. ”I, ah – I'm not sure how to word this, but how is... how is he reacting to the baby itself?”

”Herself,” Noctis murmured, just as the doctor began to speak up. She glanced at him and nodded briefly.

”Yes, it's a girl,” she said. ”Well... he's not rejecting her, not outright. I think he's still too shocked to have much of a reaction at all. He's obviously unprepared for everything that is happening right now but as I just said, this is not something I'd want to discuss so soon.”

Noctis looked down at his feet, frowning. Wherever Prompto continued from here – and it was clear to him there were two equally likely options – this was not an issue that would be solved overnight. Noctis thought of Prompto's parents, whom he was fairly sure had already deserted their son, Prompto's lack of family or relatives, Prompto's lack of money and time and stability... If he kept the baby, he'd have to give up on Crownsguard training, at least for now, and maybe even drop out of university.

When he looked up at Ignis and Gladio, he saw them thinking the same things. ”Can I go see him?” Noctis asked quietly. The doctor shook her head.

”Maybe not right now,” she said. ”He was napping when I left him and I really think it'd be best to give him some time to just come to terms with what happened to him.”

Noctis knew better than to argue with her, even if he doubted that alone time would do too much good for Prompto. Today had been a massive surprise to them all, but even so, he was confident in saying he knew his best friend inside out; Prompto wasn't someone who accepted help he couldn't return, and this was definitely one of those times.

* * *

There was little Regis had to say when Noctis walked into his private study, face white and expression openly stunned. The news his son had shared with him had left him feeling much the same, a mixture of disbelief and shock, once the initial concerns over Prompto's health had been squashed. Even after Noctis left – determined to see his friend, though with how late is was getting, Regis doubted he'd be allowed it – he found himself too stupefied to focus on anything other than the thought that Prompto – sweet, kind, sunshine-bright Prompto – had given birth in Noctis' bathtub.

It was almost too unbelievable still, and when Clarus walked into the room a moment later, Regis took one look at his face and knew he'd been told as well. ”I don't want to call it a _shame_ ,” he mused, shaking his head while Clarus collapsed into one of the armchairs, ”but...”

”Yeah,” Clarus sighed. ”I know. He's so young still, a child himself...”

Regis hummed. ”Then again, from my understanding, he hasn't been a child for a while now,” he said, grimacing and pulling a similar frown from Clarus. ”I don't doubt his... determination, or mean to imply he's not responsible, but–”

”–I'd rather he still be allowed another few years to be young and carefree, because if anyone has deserved it, then he has,” Clarus finished for him. ”I don't envy him, that's for sure. He's barely out of high school, has no family to speak of... Whatever he does from now on, it can't be easy for him.”

Regis shook his head with a grim frown and thought back to the day the boys had graduated from high school, mere weeks earlier. As the King, he'd been gifted a seat right by the stage, and when Prompto was called forward to get his diploma, Regis had seen every last emotion that crossed his face. The third to be called forward, Prompto had walked across the stage accompanied by polite if lackluster clapping, but to Regis' surprise and confusion, he hadn't looked at the audience once. Not until Gladio broke out on loud cheers, startling Prompto – along with several others – and drawing a wide-eyed stare from him, which soon turned into a bright smile nothing like the usual grin the boy wore day after day. Then someone in the audience began the jeers – scum, dirty Niff, murderer – and the smile had slipped, but only for a split second.

Regis had been under the impression that Prompto's parents would be joining them for the private party after the graduation ceremonies. He'd been proven wrong.

”If he had a support network, I wouldn't worry half as much as I do now,” Regis murmured, glancing at Clarus who nodded repetitively. ”But with his parents gone... I know the boys would walk to the ends of the world to help him, but–”

”He's not gonna take it,” Clarus cut in. ”Not when it's something he can't ever pay back.”

And wasn't that the truth. Now, Regis wouldn't say he knew Prompto, not like Noctis knew him, but he'd seen enough of the boy to understand how fiercely independent he was. More than once, Regis had found himself listening to Noctis complain his ears off when Prompto wouldn't accept anything from him, nothing more than a bag of candy or a handful of extra tickets at the arcade. This was the same Prompto who had tried to refuse his graduation presents – including an invite to a camping trip that would take them past Wiz' Chocobo Stable – and who had looked ready to faint from sheer embarrassment when the ”only” gift he had to offer to Noctis was a hand-decorated album full of photographs from the three years they'd been friends.

Prompto had already been pregnant, then, when he walked the stage at his graduation. He'd been pregnant when he began Crownsguard training for good; he'd tackled and rolled and learned to fight while nurturing a new life within his core. Regis did not want to speculate too much, nor did he want to judge, but he could not undo the little skip of numbers in his head as his brain counted back in time to the time around Prompto's eighteenth birthday. (A little blessing, the timing; Regis had taken Noctis to Tenebrae for almost a full month at the time, and all who had accompanied them on the trip had heard Noctis gripe about missing his friend's birthday. They'd been across the world from each other and as much as Regis loathe admit it, he was thankful that the scandal had been thwarted in the making.) It wasn't his business what Prompto did in his life, except for the fact that his life seemed synonymous with Noctis at times, and thus people in his life could very well be people in Noctis' life. He wasn't seeing anyone, of that Regis was sure, and the rest was not for him to know.

”Cor had the trainees on his favorite obstacle course today,” Clarus spoke of all sudden, startling Regis. It took a moment for the words to register, but once they did, he could only grimace. Though it had been years since he last ran Cor's favorite course with another person slung over his shoulders, he still remember how hard the work had been. ”Yeah, that one. Ignis let him know Prompto wouldn't be at practice for a while, and now he's freaking out over the thought that his training could've hurt the kid. Well, kids. Plural.”

Knowing Cor, that likely wasn't his only reason for worrying. Shaking his head, Regis ignored the memory and latched onto the mention of Crownsguard training instead. ”If Prompto were to keep the child, he'd likely need to quit or at least postpone his Crownsguard training,” he said, scratching at his beard in thought. ”Might even do him some good.”

”What do you mean?” Clarus asked, brow furrowed together in confusion. ”I thought that was all he wanted.”

Regis gave him a pointed look. ”Mm-hm,” he agreed, ”but I'm fairly sure he's only doing it for Noctis. Perhaps having a child will help him understand he shouldn't live his life for the sake of someone else.”

Clarus was silent for a moment. ”Or he'll put the baby in Noctis' place and further ignore his own needs and wants.”

”Or he'll put the baby in Noctis' place and further ignore his own needs and wants,” Regis agreed, sighing. ”I just wish to see him happy.”

”Yeah,” Clarus said, letting out a long exhale. ”Me too.”


	3. Day 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With a little help from his friends, Prompto tries to deal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Regular updates? What regular updates? I'm so, so, SO sorry it's taken me so long to finish this chapter! I honestly thought I'd be able to write one chapter a week like I said I was trying to, but then life had other plans and the writing never happened until now. I'd like to promise more frequent updates in the future, but as I've only just started the next chapter, I unfortunately can't do that. I considered letting this fic sit until I'd finished all the chapters and only then continuing updating it here, but I figured that since I'd already posted the first two chapters, might as well put up the third one as well.
> 
> Apologies for taking so long. I hope you'll all still enjoy reading this chapter :)
> 
> (Also, I'm updating the tags so please check them out. The last parts of this chapter deal heavily with Prompto's body issues and include mentions/implications of an eating disorder.)

Noctis hadn't been allowed to visit Prompto the previous evening after all, which turned out a good incentive for getting out of bed early in the morning. At eight, he sat at the breakfast table with his phone in hand, already dialing the medical wing to ask whether it'd be okay to visit, and in the end, he was granted permission to come by in an hour. His nerves began to flare up almost immediately as he thought of the scene that would face him; he'd slept badly due to the thoughts running through his head, all the little questions and worries and problems that would need solving. There was little Noctis wouldn't do for his best friend, but right now, he already knew there was equally little he _could_ do to help Prompto in this situation. He couldn't make the decisions, couldn't shoulder the load, couldn't do anything but offer his ears and his embrace.

After pausing to take a calming breath, Noctis slipped into Prompto's hospital room, instinctively looking towards the bed but stopping in his tracks when he saw Prompto standing next to a portable crib instead. Prompto stood with his back to the door so Noctis couldn't see his expression, not until the door clicked shut; when Prompto glanced over his shoulders, tensing up in anticipation, Noctis felt a stab in his heart. Prompto was pale, his eyes still rimmed with red, but it was the way he stood hunched over the crib that made Noctis wish he could fix everything with a single snap of his fingers.

”Hey,” Noctis murmured, stepping further into the room. ”The staff said it'd be okay to come by.”

”Oh,” Prompto whispered. He glanced at Noctis, then turned away. ”Yeah, I guess I told them that.”

Noctis tried to smile as he studied Prompto. He had one hand in the crib, the other grabbing its edge. He was only barely touching the baby, his fingers crooked next to the pink fabric swaddling the entire child; Noctis walked forward in slow, measured steps until he stood behind Prompto's back and wrapped his arms around his best friend. ”I'm so happy you're okay,” he sighed, resting his chin on Prompto's shoulder.

'Okay' probably wasn't the best word to describe Prompto's tense shoulders and bloodshot eyes, but at the same time, a very vocal part of Noctis' brain insisted on pointing out that his friend was alive, not suffering from any unusual injuries or illnesses. ”Iggy wants to know if you need something from your place,” he said after a moment of silence. Prompto's fingers twitched next to the baby's tiny little fist.

”My toothbrush, I guess,” Prompto answered slowly. He sounded exhausted, but also like he was two seconds away from breaking down, and Noctis felt his heart ache. ”Clothes. I don't know.”

”Yeah,” Noctis murmured. He paused, hesitating, but could no longer ignore the big question: ”Prom... How are you doing, really?”

Prompto's breath hitched before Noctis was done speaking. For a bried moment, Noctis was sure Prompto would start crying, but somehow, he managed to hold himself back. A deep, crackling breath, and Prompto shook his head. ”I didn't think you'd show up here,” he admitted quietly, startling a puzzled grunt out of Noctis.

”What?” he spat, ”dude, what the heck? I would've slept outside that door if Specs and the medical staff would've let me!”

Prompto snorted wetly. If possible, he hunched further into himself, shoulders drooping in an attempt to curl into a smaller ball. ”But it's gonna look bad on you,” he whispered, voice high and desperate. ”People will talk, Noct. It's not fair.”

Noctis buried his face in Prompto's shoulder and groaned. He took a deep breath, all the while trying to convince himself to calm down. Ignoring the skip in his heartbeat, he spoke: ”Dude, it's the press, talking shit is all they do!” he said, tightening his hold when he noticed Prompto begin to shake. ”Like, do you remember just this spring, when it was the anniversary of mom's death and the florist couldn't deliver the flowers because of the fire in the shopping district? The paparazzi took pictures of me bying roses in a suit and made up all kinds of shit about how I was dating someone, and they _knew_ what day it was. Hell, they even had pictures of me and dad at the cemetery! And they still pulled it!”

Prompto sniffled. ”But they'll say it's yours and then you'll be in trouble,” he cried, wringing his hands, and Noctis noticed only now that he'd let go of the baby and the crib.

”Oh, no, dude, please don't worry about ruining my image, okay?” Noctis hurried. ”Like, if you're worried about them dragging _you_ into some mess, then that's one thing, but my life is literally one imaginary scandal after another, so that really isn't your problem to cry over, okay? Okay? I got Iggy and an entire PR team just for this, so _please_ don't worry about me, Prom, you've got – you've got enough on your plate as it is.”

The floodgates opened long before Noctis was done with his spiel and Prompto began to bawl in earnest, sobbing so hard Noctis could hear his breath catch at every inhale. ”I don't want to gi-i-ive her away,” Prompto sobbed, voice breaking along with his self-control. ”I don't, I don't–”

The words brought pure pain to Noctis, who bit down on his lip and tried to push the second-hand anguish away. He saw Prompto let go of the crib so he turned him around, until they were face-to-face, and wrapped his arms tight around Prompto's shoulders while the other sobbed uncontrollably. ”Oh, Prom,” he murmured, resisting the urge to recoil from the hot breaths puffing against his neck, then fell silent because there was nothing for him to say. There was nothing Noctis could do to take away Prompto's hurt, to stop the world from crashing down on him, but he could stand there and hold onto his friend as long as necessary, and that was something he was more than determined to do.

Prompto's tears never ceased. Later on, after the baby had started crying and a nurse had walked in, shooing him away with thin lips while Prompto turned away in embarrassment, Noctis loitered in the hallways outside Prompto's room and tried to put his own world back together. He felt lost, which made him feel bad because _he_ wasn't the one who'd just had a child. It wasn't him whose life had just turned upside down.

He felt for Prompto, Noctis tried to tell himself; he had every right to sympathize with his best friend. It was his duty, as Prompto's friend, as – here he hesitated, again, because he wanted to – needed to – call himself Prompto's pack alpha, like he knew he was, but doing so just made the reality that much harsher. There was a baby in his pack and everything was wrong.

Noctis looked up at the sound of someone greeting him and saw a pair of guards saluting him, like they were supposed to. Without even realizing it, he'd made his way all the way to the other side of the Citadel, where he and his father had their formal offices. Flashing the guards a brief smile, Noctis stalked past them with new-found determination and turned the corner, then a second and took the stairs to the next floor, where he finally reached his goal: Ignis' office. The secretary waved him in without putting down her phone – it sounded important, because Noctis knew her well enough to say she was not one for scowls like the one she was currently wearing, and so he ignored what was probably a very big offense against the Crown and pushed the door open. There were bigger problems than one missing greeting.

Ignis was sitting at his desk when Noctis entered the room. ”Noctis,” he said, not surprised at all, and nodded towards the chairs. ”I've been expecting you; please have a seat.”

Noctis did, all but throwing himself into a comfortable armchair. ”I went to see Prompto,” he sighed, to which Ignis responded with a quiet hum. Noctis pressed his palms against his eyes, tried to think through the thick mist fogging up his brain, tried to figure out where to start. Though it had only been some fifteen minutes at most, he felt like hours had passed since he left the medical wing, and days since he first walked in to the sight of Prompto standing by the crib, too – scared, nervous, he couldn't say, but too _something_ to even hold the baby properly. But he'd cried, too, about how he wanted to keep the child, and it was the combination of those tears and the scene that had broken Noctis' heart anew.

”He started crying,” Noctis murmured after a beat of silence. He saw Ignis glance at him, silent but listening all the same. ”About how he doesn't want to give her away. And – _shit_ , Iggy, I just– I've never seen him like that.”

Prompto was a crier, but not over things like this, and Noctis was only beginning to understand the fact. He'd seen Prompto tear up over pictures of chocobo babies and heartwarming stories of random people rescuing kittens from sewers or driving for hours to return a lost wedding ring, and these instances had been frequent enough to lead Noctis into believing that Prompto was a person who wore his heart on his sleeve and let his emotions shine through. But no: now that he thought about it, Noctis realized he'd never seen Prompto cry over his own hurt. To twist the knife in his heart, he was also fairly sure Prompto had always done his best to hide every single problem from him – he'd known this, on some level, but it hadn't ever really settled in. Not until now.

”Is he going to keep her, then?” Ignis asked softly, turning to face Noctis properly. ”Is his decision made?”

Noctis shook his head. ”No, I think it was – he wants to keep her, but feels like he can't, that sort of stuff.”

”Ah,” Ignis gasped, ”I see.”

”Yeah.” Noctis twisted his hands together and sighed, again. ”So I was wondering if you could – I don't know, talk to him about it or something? Like look up some – I don't know if he's eligible for the year of parental leave when there isn't really anything to take a leave from, but like. Numbers and stuff.”

Ignis smiled, chuckled softly. He looked proud, Noctis realized suddenly, seeing warmth beneath all the things that were wrong. ”I was already planning on doing so,” he responded, and Noctis deflated slightly. He should've known Ignis would always keep one step ahead. ”The situation is not as glum as it might seem, at first glance – as a Crownsguard trainee, Prompto is indeed eligible for paid parental leave, doubly so if he has already accepted his place at the university.”

Noctis nodded, feeling some of the tension leave his shoulders. ”That's good,” he said, almost numb. A quick look at the ornamental clock told him it had been less than twelve hours since the whole thing, so he tried to not feel bad about still being a little shocked over everything. He wasn't entirely successful.

”That's good,” Ignis agreed. ”I... don't feel comfortable advising him either way, but your father's Council _has_ built an extensive network that should be enough to keep Prompto afloat if he were to keep the baby.”

”Uh-huh,” Noctis murmured, staring at the ceiling. He couldn't remember the details that made up said network, but the gist of it had been driven into his memory over several lectures, both at the Citadel and at school. His father considered the Lucian welfare system his greatest success since ending the war with Nifflheim and in theory, it was supposed to mean that no-one was left hanging on nothing. ”I just can't believe it.”

Ignis smiled sadly. ”Indeed,” he sighed. ”I certainly do not envy him.”

* * *

No, Ignis did not envy Prompto. He'd left the Citadel to pack a hospital bag for Prompto, but when he'd stood in the entrance to the little house in the quiet neighborhood, he'd realized just how alone the boy was. He'd known it, of course; he'd even visited Prompto several times in the past, spending afternoons first watching him and Noctis, and then simply hanging out with the others. There was a room in the house that wasn't used anymore, the door locked and the handle collecting dust, and the kitchen-living had only ever showed signs of one inhabitant. All the signs, all the empty holes, yet Ignis had never seen the whole truth of it.

Smiling briefly, Ignis nodded at a young man seated at the nurse's station before continuing his way towards Prompto's room. The door was slightly open and he paused, peeking through to make sure he wasn't interrupting anything. Seeing nothing but Prompto's back, he pushed to door open and stepped in. ”Knock knock,” Ignis said, stopping in the doorway. ”May I come in?”

Prompto turned to glance over his shoulder. ”I guess,” he sighed. His voice was quiet and raw, almost hoarse, and Ignis' heart ached when he spotted the crib and recalled Noctis' descriptions of how he'd found Prompto standing right by his baby, so close yet unable to touch her. ”Come on in. You can close the door if you want to.”

Ignis nodded and did as told. ”I brought you some clothes,” he said after a brief pause, hoisting a large bag down from his shoulder and dropping it on a wooden table by the door. ”Your favorite chocobo as well, unless I'm mistaken.”

The plushie in question was so massive he'd had no trouble distinguishing it from its herd. Ignis had first seen the toy when collecting clean clothes from Prompto's closet, and the sight of it had been enough to stop him in his tracks. The chocobo – Rosie – was old and slightly faded, yet hardly worn at all, and at once Ignis had recalled all the photographs texted to their group chat, all the times Prompto had talked excitedly about the toy. She was important, and so Ignis had brought her along, hoping to gift at least a little familiar comfort, yet when Prompto saw him holding her, he looked anything but delighted. Surprised at first, then embarrassed, almost angry.

”Oh, yeah, that's her,” Prompto said, voice thin and high. He looked away from Ignis and at the crib where the baby must have been sleeping. ”Thanks, Iggy.”

”It was no problem.” Ignis set the chocobo on top of the bag and wandered closer. ”And how are you today?”

It was a simple question, bound to receive a loaded answer. Prompto shrugged and attempted a smile that fell flat right away. ”'S okay,” he mumbled, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. He moved aside ever-so-slightly and Ignis finally caught a glimpse of the baby, her round cheeks and tiny little fists.

Ignis did not consider himself a family man; he was fairly sure he'd never want any children of his own. Still, the sight of her sleeping contently in the plastic hospital crib was enough to pull the rug from under his feet, leaving him reeling as he scented the air. She smelled new under the heady cloud of warm milk, new and warm, but most of all her scent was still like Prompto's, which told him this was not just _any_ baby but his _packmate's_ baby, and that was – that would have been _a lot_ in ordinary circumstances, but with the situation being what it was... Ignis held back a sigh and drew in a deep breath instead.

”If you would like to talk about... the more practical side of things, I am willing to listen and help you out best as I can,” he said, clearing his throat. Ignis fixed his glasses before continuing: ”I've understood you are still weighting your options, so I have looked up some numbers and assistance programs. I... I suppose this is something one would like to decide based on factual information.”

The last words weren't exactly meant as a joke but they felt like one all the same. Prompto huffed, swiped at his nose, but when he looked at Ignis once more, his expression had changed. The smile on his face was far from honest; it was the one Ignis had long since come to associate with Prompto trying to hide his feelings in order to push himself through whatever it was that was giving him grief at the time. The sight brought a hollow pain to Ignis' chest, one he chose to ignore for now.

”Why won't you take a seat?” he asked instead, tipping his chin towards a plush chair by the hospital bed. Prompto's eyes followed the motion and he stilled, biting down on his already sore-looking lower lip.

”Is this gonna take a while?” he asked, shifting nervously. Ignis frowned but nodded, and a second later, it was his turn to flush red as understanding hit him.

Prompto wouldn't meet his eyes anymore. Ignis ignored him in favor of pulling a plastic chair closer to the bed, motions as slow as possible without appearing utterly ridiculous, and when he was done, he saw that Prompto had pulled the crib to the bedside and was securing it on the lowered metal railings. Despite looking away, Ignis couldn't miss the pained winces as Prompto very gingerly settled to lounge on the bed, curled towards the baby with one hand just brushing her tummy. When he was done, he gave Ignis a feeble smile.

”I tried to moogle this stuff last night,” he said, wiggling his free hand in the air, ”but it felt like I was reading, like, Ancient Solheimian or something and I just. Dropped it.” When Prompto spoke, he sounded so openly dejected and humiliated that Ignis wanted to take him in his arms and hold him there until the end of time if so needed, yet he knew that bodily comfort would do little to clear the current situation.

”Fairly understandable, if you ask me.” Ignis smiled briefly and unfolded the cover of his tablet. ”Now, before we move onto anything else – do you have any appointments or scheduled meetings that need to be cancelled?”

On the bed, Prompto blinked owlishly. A second later, his face fell in embarrassment and he turned to look at the baby instead of Ignis. ”I didn't even think about stuff like that,” he murmured, fingering the pink fabric used to swaddle the baby. He was quiet for a while before answering: ”No, there's nothing like that.”

Ignis nodded. ”And your bills? I took your mail inside when I visited your house, and though I did not go through them, I did notice a letter from the electric company amongst them.”

Prompto hummed, looking at the ceiling in thought. ”Nothing's due till next week,” he said, quieting as he continued, ”but I'll probably be home by then.”

Once again, Ignis felt his heart swell in pain, and once again, he ignored it just as he ignored the open hurt hanging almost visible in the air around Prompto. ”Of course,” he said simply, tapping his tablet a few times before opening the file containing his notes. Without futher ado, he began to lead Prompto through every issue he'd thought worth mentioning.

If Prompto were to keep the child, then from a financial point of view, he'd have no troubles during the first twelve months of her life. He'd simply take the offered year of parental leave, and though the monthly payments were far from luxurious, Ignis knew Prompto was shrewd enough to survive on the money – especially as the baby would receive not only healthcare but also childcare services free due to his status as a single parent and a student. As Ignis relayed on this piece of information, he watched for the smallest changes in Prompto's expression and was relieved to see something akin to calmness begin to replace some of the distress.

”And what about after the first year?” Prompto asked quietly. On the surface, Ignis smiled, but inside he was wincing.

After the twelve months of parental leave, Prompto would have to do something. Though continuing his Crownsguard training was a possibility, Ignis was of the opinion that Prompto would better benefit from getting his university degree first; this was a sentiment Prompto agreed with, and with a brief smile, they moved on.

”Now, on the matter of your house – I understand your parents have transferred the ownership to your name, yes?” Ignis asked, glancing at Prompto for confirmation.

”Yeah, when I turned eighteen,” Prompto replied, grimacing. Ignis nodded.

”Whatever you do from here on, I would recommend you sell that place, unless you have some attachment to it that I know nothing about,” Ignis continued. ”The neighborhood is a good one and there is a competition for houses in the area. If you were to sell the house, you should easily make enough money to not only buy a place of a more reasonable size, but also to put a good emount of gil on a savings account.”

When Ignis looked up, he saw Prompto nodding, a surprisingly confident expression on his face. ”Yeah, I've actually been thinking about that for a while, ever since they gave me the place,” he said, huffing. ”It's just been a pretty busy year since, and like. Selling a house is apparently a lot of work and I guess I never really got around to actually doing it.”

”I would be glad to give you a helping hand if you so require,” Ignis smiled. ”Either way, selling the house and possibly working during the summers should – in theory – leave you with enough money to finish your studies with grace even if you were to keep her.”

Prompto drew in a breath. ”Yeah,” he exhaled slowly, eyes set on the baby sleeping by his side. His silence lasted long and Ignis didn't feel like breaking it, not when he could sense something hiding behind it, and when Prompto finally did speak up, his tone was quiet and nervous. ”What d'you think I should do?”

Hesitating, Ignis held back a sigh. ”That is a question I will not answer,” he spoke after a moment, trying to catch Prompto's gaze and failing at it. ”It is a question I can't answer. Prompto–”

”No, no, I know,” Prompto cut in, huffing a short, self-deprecating laugh. ”I shouldn't have asked. I'm sorry, Iggy, I'm just–”

”You're in an extremely distressing situation you were horribly unprepared for,” Ignis spoke, raising his voice just a little. Prompto quieted down but still refused to meet his eyes. ”I will offer you any fact I can find, I will answer as many questions as I can, but as to actual advice... this is something you need to decide on your own. Looking at all the information I've shared with you, I believe that in theory, you could do it. However, that's only the hard, cold facts, nothing more than a simple calculation on paper. I cannot account for your own opinions and feelings on the matter. I'm so sorry, Prompto; I truly wish I could be of more help.”

There were tears in Prompto's eyes when he finally looked in Ignis' way. Next to him, the baby was beginning to stir. ”It's okay, Ignis,” Prompto spoke softly, smiling through all his pain and distress, but his attention was already drifting towards the whimpering baby. ”You've already done a lot for me. Thank you, really. I mean it – thank you.”

Before Ignis could answer, the baby began wailing in earnest, her face red within a split second as she screamed louder than a creature as small as her should have been capable of. Prompto shifted closer to her and cast an embarrassed look over his shoulder. ”She's – she's probably getting hungry again,” he explained, and Ignis instantly understood what was left unsaid.

”Of course,” he spoke, standing up. He hesitated for a moment, unsure if he should just leave, but the urgent need to comfort his packmate won and he walked over to the bed to pull Prompto into a hug. ”I'm here for you,” he murmured; ”we're all here for you. I cannot begin to understand how you feel in this moment, but I do know that none of this can be easy for you, so just remember – we're here when you need us.”

Prompto was small in his arms, almost fragile, and if he reacted somehow, Ignis missed it. While the baby continued to cry, a nurse stepped into the room, instantly drawing the attention of both Ignis and Prompto. There was neither time nor space for Ignis to continue to comfort Prompto so he stepped back from the bed, giving Prompto's shoulder one last squeeze before gathering his tablet and walking out of the hospital room. When he closed the door, the last thing he saw was Prompto taking the child in his arms to hold her secure against his chest, even as his downturned eyes welled with tears.

* * *

She hadn't been hungry and Prompto had known it, but still he'd all but kicked Ignis out of the room. A few hours later found him standing alone in the bathroom while a nurse tended to the baby, giving him a moment to shower and hopefully calm down. Though the bathroom was designed to be as relaxing as possible, being closed in with nothing but his own body for company left Prompto feeling worse than before; the smallest touch to his breasts brought droplets of milk to the surface, and the supposedly soothing shower had done little else but burned as the water flowed past a wound in a place that should not be wounded.

Prompto hated his body. The nurses had given him a bottle of diluted potion, to either dab or spray over the stitches holding his bottom together, but the mere thought of what was going on with his genitalia left him reeling. He couldn't touch himself there, couldn't even look down at what he was doing, and so most of the potion ended up dribbling down his thighs.

He hated himself. He hated his treacherous body and the milk and the mesh diaper he needed to wear in fear of soiling everything with the blood leaking steadily out of him. The man who watched him from the mirror had red eyes and a red nose and two red cheeks, and his lips where red too, from hours of nervous nibbling and desperate attempts to keep his cries in. It was easier to watch the mirror than his own body so that's what Prompto did, kept his gaze locked on the steamy glass and tried to find any changes on his body, anything to tell him he should've known he was pregnant.

He'd gained a pretty exact eighteen pounds since his last birthday. Prompto knew this because he still journaled every change to his body, every mile he ran, every calorie he ate. The pounds didn't show that much; other than the subtle swell of his breasts, his body was the same as before. His stomach was flat as ever, and though he'd seen his weight go up on the scale, he hadn't been able to pinpoint any fat gathering anywhere on his body, and so he'd assumed it new muscle from Crownsguard training. Any pains he'd had, he'd also considered a side effect of Crownsguard training.

He'd been so fucking _dumb_ , Prompto thought, so fucking _blind_. On the mirror, his face twisted first into a grimace and then the tell-tale twist of a cry threatening to slip past, and though he clamped his mouth shut as tightly as possible, he wasn't able to stop the sound tearing free of him. His lips wobbled and he leaned against the counter for support, the hard edge digging into his palms, but he barely noticed it. Tears were already rolling down his heated cheeks and there was nothing he could do to stop them.

The sound of someone knocking on the door startled him. ”Prompto?” the nurse asked through the door, ”is everything okay? May I come in?”

Prompto sniffled and hurried to get his hospital gown. ”No, no, wait, I'm not dressed,” he babbled, crying out in frustration when the soft fabric got caught against his sweat-damp skin. ”Wait, wait, wait–”

The nurse waited another beat longer, giving Prompto just enough time to tug the dress-like gown down past his chest and the hospital underwear. He didn't have the time to wipe the tears from his face, not that it would have helped, and the middle-aged woman sighed as soon as she saw him.

”Oh, honey,” she exhaled, grasping him by his arms and trying to soothe him by running her palms down to his elbows and back up to his shoulders. ”Let's get you back in the room, hmm? It's a little hot and damp in here.”

Prompto didn't resist being led out of the bathroom and onto the padded rocking chair by the bed. His body hurt when he saw down, the donut pillow hardly a comfort, and a new wave of tears forced their way out of his eyes. The baby giggled in the crib and Prompto's cries took a hysteric edge.

The nurse let him cry it out, offering her presence but little else. When he was done, tears run out and too exhausted to cry any longer, she held out a box of tissues and waited patiently until he had dried his face and blown his nose. It was only after he'd discarded the used tissues that she spoke.

”Is there anything I can do to make you feel better?” she asked kindly, sitting down on the bed. Prompto gasped a breath and looked around the room, too out of after his lenghty cry to give an immediate answer. Eventually his gaze settled on the baby and a second later, the nurse smiled. ”Would you like to hold her? You did like that, didn't you?”

Still speechless, Prompto nodded and held out his arms while the nurse got the baby for him. It was true: he liked holding her. He couldn't say what it was – some old omegan instinct or an actual attachment to the little bundle that smelled like his – but when he had her in his arms, he felt marginally better. Her warmth seeped through their clothes and her cheek was soft where it pressed against the bare skin of his collarbones, and the tiny little sounds spilling from her tiny little mouth were so content they made him feel much the same.

Holding her, he could almost forget everything else. Not entirely, but almost. He hated his body and himself but – _loved_ her, or at least liked her, the need to protect her a surprising warmth in his otherwise hollow chest.

”Is she really okay?” Prompto murmured eventually, unwilling to look the nurse in the eye as he spoke. Though he'd already been told she was as fine as could be, the memories of everything he had done while pregnant with her still continued to haunt him.

”She is,” the nurse said, smiling kindly at him. ”I guarantee there is nothing wrong with her.” She hesitated for a moment before asking if he'd like to see the doctor and Prompto nodded, his chin brushing the little beanie covering the baby's head. He tightened his hold of her and listened to the receding footsteps of the nurse as she left the room.

The doctor who came to see him was the same one who'd stitched him together the previous day – the only one he'd seen, actually, other than a very brief visit from someone else who'd been in the night shift. She sat down on the bed where the nurse had been just a moment earlier and clapped her hands together lightly, her cheer almost grating on Prompto's fraying nerves.

”I hear you're worried about her wellbeing, is that true?” she asked. She sounded like she might have been smiling but Prompto didn't dare look up at her so he nodded and let his shoulders drop down in an attempt to curl around the baby.

”Yeah,” he croaked.

”Alright,” the doctor said. ”In a nutshell: there's nothing wrong with her. She's on the smaller side of healthy but you carried her to term, so her body is as developed as need be. Her bloodwork is fine and she got great points on the Apgar scale. I, as her current doctor, am in no way worried for her health, and neither should you be.”

Prompto sniffled, still staring at the floor between their feet. ”But I didn't know I was pregnant,” he whispered, voice raw and painful against his suddenly sore throat. ”I – I worked really hard in Crownsguard training, and I, I probably didn't eat well enough for her, and–”

”–and she still came out just fine,” the doctor cut in, finishing his sentence for him. Prompto didn't dare tell her he'd been restricting his calories on top of all the excercise. Just the previous day, he'd made a new record on the obstacle course he'd been running, shaving almost ten seconds from the previous record. He'd done that while in labor. While nine months pregnant. He'd done that and a lot more, and the idea that she'd been born healthy despite all he'd done to hurt her – he couldn't accept it. He just couldn't.

”When am I going home?” Prompto asked eventually.

”When do you want to go home?” The doctor returned his question with another, but it wasn't what he'd asked and they both knew it. With a sigh she continued: ”I want to keep you here for at least another full day. I can explain another two on top of that, but after that... there won't really be a physical reason to keep you here, and as much I want to help you...”

She trailed off and Prompto nodded, understanding. ”No, I get it,” he said, sighing. ”What if – what if I don't know by then.”

”If you don't know what you're going to do with her, you mean?” the doctor clarified. ”We obviously can't keep her here, so unless you're willing to take her home with you while you continue to ponder your decision, I imagine the social services would find her a temporary foster home until you know what's the right thing to do.”

Prompto nodded. The answer was pretty much what he'd expected – what he'd feared, too. ”And if I – if I want to give her away?”

”Then the social services will do their best to find her a good home. Newborn babies are always adopted fast when they're healthy, so you don't need to worry about her being left alone.”

A sob that was half laughter tore from Prompto's throat before he could stop it. For a moment he giggled hysterically, and when he turned to face the doctor properly, he knew he must have looked insane. ”But – but – but what about when she grows up blonde and blue-eyed and they all realize she has to be a Niff? They'll, they'll decide they won't want her anymore, and then she'll, they'll just – she'll be alone _then_ and–”

”Breathe, Prompto,” the doctor cut in. ”Let's take a breath and pause there, okay? Can you do that for me?”

Prompto nodded, tears burning hot in the corners of his eyes, the baby whimpering in his arms – had he hurt her, again? – and tried to calm down. He was just so tired, so afraid, because everything around him was wrong and changing at speeds he couldn't follow, couldn't even begin to understand, and the doctor kneeling on the floor before him with her palms on his knees was barely enough of a focal point to keep him from spiraling into another breakdown.

She wanted him to see a therapist. They'd talked about it very briefly the previous day, but everything had been too much at the time, so they'd agreed to leave it for another day, until he'd had enough time to at least settle down somewhat. The time was quickly approaching, now, and Prompto was lost enough to accept the offer without complaints – with thankfullness, even.

”I just want her to be okay,” he sobbed, rocking the baby against his chest in a desperate attempt to offer some comfort to her. ”I just – I just need her to be okay!”

He hadn't asked for her, hadn't wanted her, but there was no way to return to a time before her, so he had no choice but to deal with it.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed it! <3 Kudos and comments make me super happy, so leave me a note if you feel like it! I'm also on tumblr, where I reblog fandom stuff and complain about writing as @missymoth :)


End file.
